Politics, in any universe, boils down to a group of people in expensive clothes arguing about who has the biggest ego and the longest stick. For the Architect, politics was the ultimate form of Spam. It demanded morning meetings, required standing for hours listening to monologues about the "fate of the world," and worst of all, forced people to wear uncomfortable uniforms that restricted the range of movement necessary for a proper nap.
However, when your power level bends space-time around you, the ruling factions do not leave you alone. They consider you a chess piece that must be controlled.
The problem for them was that Jonathan's avatars did not play chess. They either ate the pieces if they were made of chocolate, or used them to balance a table leg if it wobbled.
One Piece Universe – The New World, Mariejois
Reaching the Holy Land of Mariejois, located at the top of the Red Line, is a privilege few humans experience. Ten thousand meters above sea level, the landscape possesses a sterile and imposing beauty. The clouds form an ocean of white cotton beneath the marble balconies, and the air is so pure, thin, and cold that it purifies the lungs instantly. It was the kind of pristine, silent isolation that Eta loved.
Unfortunately, Eta was not there to enjoy the scenery. As one of the youngest and most absurdly efficient Commodores in the Marines, he had been dragged into an emergency political summit between Fleet Admiral Sengoku and the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
The massive conference room was tense. Sengoku presented a strategic map. Donquixote Doflamingo sat with his feet on the huge round table, laughing maniacally, while Mihawk and Bartholomew Kuma observed silently nearby.
Eta, wearing his Marine coat loosely unbuttoned, sat at the far end of the table. His head rested in his hand while he stared out the enormous window toward the sea of clouds. He was actively ignoring the meeting, calculating how many hours of sleep he could recover on the return voyage.
Doflamingo, whose radar for detecting weakness and insubordination was legendary, noticed the young Commodore paying absolutely no attention to him.
With a sadistic grin, Doflamingo moved a finger under the table. Using the invisible strings of the Ito Ito no Mi, he aimed at Eta's chair to make it collapse and humiliate the "prodigy child" in front of the Admirals.
The threads—sharper than blades and harder than steel—wrapped around the leg of Eta's chair.
Doflamingo pulled.
Nothing happened.
A vein pulsed on his forehead. He pulled harder, injecting Haki into the threads.
Eta yawned, closed his eyes, and shifted his posture slightly. In doing so, he unconsciously activated Level 2 Falna and the Turtle Doctrine, anchoring both himself and the chair to the floor with Jujutsu while coating the wood in a microscopic layer of Black Syntax (Armament Haki).
Snap.
Doflamingo's unbreakable threads snapped like broken strings. The kinetic backlash made the Warlord stumble slightly in his seat, his smile disappearing for a fraction of a second.
Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, slowly opened his hawk-like eyes and stared at Eta's chair. He had felt the clash of wills.
Eta lazily raised a hand.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku. The air at this altitude dries my nasal passages, and the political tension in this room is interfering with my digestion. Can we move to the vote? I need to return to my ship before three. Captain Tashigi gets anxious if I don't sign my reports, and seeing her cry from bureaucratic stress gives me a headache."
Sengoku nearly choked.
Across the room, Akainu clenched his fists in fury at the insolence—but even he hesitated when he saw the cold, empty look in Eta's eyes.
Doflamingo forced a laugh, though his fingers trembled slightly from the recoil of his broken strings.
"Fufufu… What an interesting Commodore the Marines have. A lazy, arrogant brat."
Eta slowly turned his head toward the pink-feathered pirate.
His dark eyes, devoid of ambition or fear, locked onto him.
"Take your feet off the table, flamingo. You're ruining the mahogany. And if the Admiral gets angry, he'll extend this meeting by another hour."
Silence fell across Mariejois.
No one spoke to a Celestial Demon like that and survived.
But Doflamingo, sensing the passive Conqueror's Haki radiating from Eta like a massive black hole…
slowly lowered his feet from the table.
Eta nodded, turned back toward the window, and closed his eyes again.
The politics of the Marines had just been subdued by the tyranny of absolute boredom.
High School DxD Universe – Kuoh Academy
While Eta ignored the World Government, Kappa was dealing with the biblical equivalent of a United Nations summit.
The Peace Summit between Angels, Devils, and Fallen Angels was being held inside the Kuoh Student Council building. It was a historic event. Sirzechs Lucifer, Azazel, and the Archangel Michael were all in the same room. Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri acted as hosts, tense and ready for betrayal.
Kappa, of course, had not been invited.
And he was extremely grateful for that.
To escape the magical stress saturating the school, Kappa had found the only place the security patrols ignored: the private Zen Garden of the old tea club.
It was a miniature landscape of exquisite beauty—perfectly raked gravel, ancient bonsai trees, and a crystal-clear koi pond.
Kappa lay stretched out on the wooden walkway, tossing crumbs from one of Koneko's macarons to the fish while enjoying the sound of flowing water.
Then the sky above Kuoh darkened.
The terrorist faction Khaos Brigade launched a surprise attack on the summit. Space froze as dozens of mages teleported onto school grounds.
Three of them fled into the zen garden.
Their heavy boots crushed the raked gravel and snapped a priceless bonsai tree.
"Hide here and prepare the annihilation spell!" their leader shouted, drawing a massive red magic circle over the koi pond.
Kappa stopped mid-crumb.
He looked at the crushed bonsai.
He looked at the rippling water scaring the fish.
Then he looked at the massive, noisy magical energy gathering in front of his face.
Wise Core:
Terrorist attack detected. If they destroy the school, you lose your favorite rooftop nap location. Dust will also stain your uniform.
Kappa sighed and stood up.
The three terrorists turned.
"A civilian! Kill him before he alerts the devils!"
A lance of condensed demonic fire shot toward Kappa's chest.
He did not dodge.
He stabilized his Ki using the Turtle Modulation, raised his right hand, and combined Alpha's Micro-Kamehameha with Ignis's spatial compression.
No chant.
No magic circle.
Kappa snapped his fingers.
A tiny blue pulse—no larger than a needle—shot forward.
It pierced the fire lance, dissolved it instantly, and struck the massive terrorist spell circle above the pond.
The annihilation spell suffered a syntax collapse.
The stored energy inverted and imploded in a flash of cold light. The resulting shockwave struck the three mages like a speeding truck, launching them out of the garden, through the wall of the council building, and dumping their unconscious bodies at the feet of Azazel and Sirzechs.
Azazel stared at the hole in the wall.
Then he looked into the garden.
There stood Kappa, calmly raking the gravel again, restoring the perfect aesthetic.
Azazel's eyes lit up with fascination.
"Well, well… Rias, Sona. Who is the boy who just dismantled supreme-level magic with a finger snap… just to fix the sand?"
Rias turned pale.
In the back of the room, Koneko hid a small smile while nibbling a sweet.
Sona adjusted her glasses, already feeling an ulcer forming.
"He's an exchange student with a severe allergy to political problems, Governor Azazel. I strongly advise against recruiting him. If you force him to attend meetings, he might destroy the Underworld just to avoid writing a report."
Kappa finished raking the gravel, tossed one last crumb to the koi, and lay back down on the wood.
Completely unaware that he had just altered the balance between three biblical factions.
Rakudai Kishi no Cavalry Universe – The Kurogane Estate
If Kuoh was an international pressure cooker, the Kurogane estate was a nest of family vipers.
Nu had been formally summoned for the weekend.
The clan's estate sat in the mountains, where autumn leaves painted the maple trees crimson and waterfalls created a majestic atmosphere of meditation and peace.
Unfortunately, the inside of the mansion was rotten with arrogance.
The patriarch, Itsuki Kurogane, sat in the main tatami hall surrounded by clan elders and elite guards.
Ikki knelt before him, enduring a hostile interrogation meant to politically expel him from the family before the international tournament.
Nu, however, was not kneeling.
He lay sideways on the tatami, propping his head on one elbow, wearing a cheap cotton yukata with half-closed eyes.
Stella Vermillion sat beside Ikki, glaring at the patriarch.
"I will make this simple," Itsuki said coldly. "Nu Kurogane. The clan will overlook your disciplinary failures and grant you elite political resources. In return, you must publicly sever ties with this F-rank disgrace."
Nu yawned loudly.
"The International League requires interviews. Cameras. Autographs. Economy flights. Terrible logistics."
The elders gasped in outrage.
One of Itsuki's elite guards drew his Device, a halberd, and stepped toward Nu to discipline him.
Stella prepared to summon her flames.
But the air changed.
Nu did not move.
He inhaled the scent of autumn maples outside.
Then he released pure Conqueror's Haki, stabilized through the Turtle Doctrine and Level 2 density.
There was no wind.
No physical destruction.
Just absolute psychological pressure.
The approaching guard froze. His eyes widened in horror. His knees collapsed, and he fell unconscious onto the tatami.
The pressure spread only toward the elders and patriarch.
They clutched their chests, suffocating under the cold terror of a predator's presence.
Itsuki trembled.
Nu calmly lifted his teacup, took a sip, and set it down with a small click.
"Here's my political counteroffer, uncle."
His voice was calm and emotionless.
"You will leave Ikki alone. You will stop sending your little puppets to sabotage his fights. You will pretend we don't exist. Because if you interrupt my weekends again with clan summons…"
He scratched the back of his head.
"I might have a sleepwalking accident and trip into the support pillars of this mansion. Which would be tragic. The maple garden outside is very beautiful."
Itsuki's terrified expression confirmed the message had been received.
Nu suppressed his Haki instantly.
Air returned to the room.
The elders collapsed into their seats, soaked in cold sweat.
Nu stretched lazily and stood.
"Ikki, let's go. The tea here is bitter and the conversation made me sleepy. Stella, want to come? I know a crepe place near the station."
Stella rose slowly.
She looked at the terrified leaders of the Kurogane clan.
Then she looked at Nu's relaxed back as he walked toward the maple garden.
Her heart pounded violently.
Ikki was a brave hero.
But the lazy monster walking ahead of them—who could crush an entire political empire with nothing but irritation—
was something far more fascinating.
While Zeta in Fairy Tail was being fed cake by the demon Mirajane, and Nu dismantled bureaucracies by inviting a princess to eat crepes, the Architect continued to prove a universal truth:
Absolute power does not corrupt.
Absolute power simply gives you the right to take the best naps in the multiverse.